********************
Blake Nightingale
My eyes open and all that greets me is silence. I can tell it’s night even through the mist as I sit up and look around. My whole body is still suffused with exhaustion from healing Wyatt, and as I turn to look at him, I realize he is gone.
Fear, panic, and confusion all explode as I frantically search for the young man, but the only thing I find is his fox, whimpering beside where he used to be sitting. Where the hell is he?!
I go to call out to see if maybe he’s nearby and has to do something, but just as noise begins to leave my throat, a chilling laugh comes from within the mist. One that sends a chill down my spine and immediately invokes my flight or fight response, specifically flight. The laugh grows in volume and seems as though it is getting closer as it is joined by a chorus of creepy giggles.
Taking a glance at Dakota, and knowing that Wyatt would never want the fox to be left behind, I pick up the fox and pull it with me. Dakota resists for a moment, but I whisper-yell to it as it growls at me.
“We need to go find Wyatt, okay!? Your master!?”
He stops growling and lets me pick him up as I slide down the wood, using my Vigor and Ether-infused bandages to protect me on the way down. Just as we splash into the water, I hear pounding footsteps whose sound outweighs the splash it creates.
My heart skips a beat as I immediately plunge beneath the stomach-high water, hiding beneath. Dakota resists for only a short moment as I put my hand over his mouth to calm him down. I flow Ether around my heart with the twinge of my Sigil, using Hibernation to slow down my heartbeat and respiration. This is what I normally do whenever I meet a threat that I am uncomfortable with fighting in Sinscreak. You hide and wait for a later opportunity.
Then, I just wait under the surface of the murky water as the footsteps grow in volume and force, almost as if they are angry. After almost a full minute of stressful and fear-induced waiting, I see the creature that is making these noises.
For a while, I thought it might have been a Letiche or a Rougarou, but my guess was completely off. What emerges is a massive humanoid, almost nine feet or so tall, that is carrying a cleaver on its back. Or on her, as I can see feminine features on the creature.
Just looking at it sends chills down my spine and makes me go stock still, almost as if I’m seeing a natural predator. Dakota does the same as I feel him go completely limp in my arms beneath the water.
I try to sense its Ether just using my own mind by closing my eyes, but the density coming from it is beyond anything I’ve ever seen before, instantly burning my mind. I rip away my senses and hope that it doesn’t notice as I too go limp. It stops for a brief moment at my investigation and looks around at the deadwood fingers.
Thankfully, the creature doesn’t seem to notice us as it walks deeper into the mist, past the constructions of dead wood that look like fingers grasping at the air. I wait to emerge until the thing is fully gone beyond the mist, and when I do, both Dakota and I take a huge gasp of air.
What the fuck is happening?!
Was that a demon? An Ogre? Or what? I’ve never heard of anything within Sinscreak with a clever and that kind of height or stature. The Rougarou is the closest, but it is covered in damp hair, not open skin and clothes. Not to even mention how ugly it was. The damned thing looked disgusting, and the only way I could recognize that it was female was because of its chest.
Not just that, but where the hell did Wyatt go? This mist is so hard to see through and he just up and left? How long ago? He even left Dakota? No… something isn’t right. I can’t imagine him leaving the fox behind.
Something must have made him leave… Was it those laughs I heard? They disappeared the second the footsteps emerged… Maybe. The Laughing Reeds… Johnny told me who was told by Alonzo that they cause hallucinations and eat away at the mind over time. That few have ever walked out of alive, and those that do are often aged, mentally scarred, or not the same person.
But this is the closest Crossroads or the only known place with a chance of having one that’s accessible. The only other one I can think of would be at the bottom of Lawless Lake. And no one can make it that deep, it’s just known to be down there.
Maybe something from beyond lured him away. That must be it! What I just saw must be from beyond one of these realms, and something must have lured Wyatt away without giving him the chance to wake me up!
With renewed Vigor, I speak to Dakota and start walking deeper into the mist to look for Wyatt, Otto, and Johnny… They’re all gone… aren’t they?
“At least you’re still here with me, Dakota. I–I… I don’t like being alone. Please don’t leave me either, okay?”
The fox just tilts its head at me. Of course, it wouldn’t understand loneliness. It’s just a fox. It might be a bit smart, but it’s not sentient. Don't be stupid. You need to focus. It is just like it used to be. Alone in the swamps. You need nothing else but yourself here, no matter would you might think. Twenty years in this place without dying, you can do a bit more, right, Blake? With a sigh and a quick look at the shrouded moon, I wade through the high water. I hope I can.
So many people have left me… And while few do on purpose, it hurts all the same. This is why I joined up with Johnny. The Dragoon died, and I was left without purpose or companionship. Loneliness eats away at you faster than anything else.
I’ve gone several minutes without air, hours on the verge of death, days without water, and weeks without food, but the months alone are what stick with me. Sitting in a corner of an alley or inside a hole of a tree with no one to speak to except for the fear that those around you will take advantage or simply kill you for your meager belongings.
That’s not even what hurts the most, though. It’s when you finally make friends just for them to betray or leave you. It’s hard to decide which hurts more though, a betrayal of a friend, or the death of one. That’s why I just couldn’t leave Wyatt behind even if it might have gotten me killed. It’s why I’ll look for him until I’m given a reason he wouldn’t do the same for me.
As my thoughts spiral in this depressive episode that I’m so familiar with, I hear laughs in my peripheral, but I ignore them. Delusions are nothing new to me. I was born here. Hallucinations from venom, poison, or spores are common. Over time, you gain a fairly good sense of what is real and what isn’t.
For me, the way I figure it out isn’t some gut feeling like others do. It’s the emotional response I have. Most laughter would simply make me feel lonelier because I’m left out, but this laughter? It only makes me feel uncomfortable.
So, I’m able to easily ignore it as I search for my friends who left me, hoping that none of them did so out of betrayal or that they are already dead. I am, however, careful not to follow in the footsteps of that Ogre that passed me by. Under no circumstances do I want to be found by that thing.
After several hours of this stressful and careful travel with the laughter occasionally in the back of my mind, I find an island of dark stone in this water. It’s a small one, only about the size of a small house, but Dakota and I climb to the top of it after a few minutes of searching for a way up. And when we do, I look down at it to see if there is anything left behind by Wyatt. A message, a waypoint, anything.
And while I do find something, it’s not what I was hoping for. There seem to be small inscriptions that were destroyed by lead and fire, a sign of Wyatt’s Intervention, but above that, are long winding words written with what seems to be the nails of a giant. The text is rough, swirling, and hard to read, and it’s not even in Chero, the human language. It’s in another language, the demonic tongue of Enochian. there are many demonic languages, though, just as there are many different kinds of demons, but Enochian is the most common.
I know a bit of the twisting letters from the many books I’ve read over my life, one of which was a short book of words and letters of Enochian written by a Hunter. Because of this, I can decipher the twelve words written roughly into the stone.
You are unwelcome here, young graves. Turn back or meet your maker.
I’m not certain that is the correct translation. “Graves” could have been tombs, and “maker” could have been death or fate, but I’m not sure. Regardless of the differing translation, though, it makes almost zero sense. Whoever wrote this, probably that Ogre, left a warning for someone. But who? How could it even of known anyone was here? The mist is everywhere and stops all sight past thirty feet or so.
Is it me? Can’t be. It didn’t even see me nor does any of this fit me.
I stand up from my investigation into the stone with more questions than answers, but at least I got one answer. Wyatt was here. I don’t know why he shot at the stone, breaking it, but I can see his spent shells on the rock. I’m sure he had a reason.
Sighing, I climb down from the rock with Dakota as I head deeper into the mist, in search of the Crossroads, my friends, and whatever the hell is going on. All the while, laughter touches my mind and stabs into my temples with an eerie pain. The way through the Laughing Reeds is difficult, especially with this piercing laughter, but I grew up in Sinscreak. No amount of water, danger, or creepiness will keep me away. This place is my home and its waters are my birthright.
I have no issue swimming or wading through this as long as I have to. Sleeping on top of the murky water is not an issue either. Although, I would rather have a safe place to rest, and I’m sure Dakota would too.
The mist only continues to grow harder and harder to see through, and the laughter starts to pierce through my mental defenses as I go deeper. Pain erupts in my temples as I try to focus and defend myself while I wade through the water.
It is difficult, though, and I worry about how Otto, Johnny, and Wyatt are doing without the boons of my Sigil.
****************
Wyatt Graves
As I climb onto the third island, my feet grow increasingly exhausted. This one is even deeper into the mist before, even bigger, and creates way more of the Ether from the inscriptions written.
Blake follows behind me as Dakota keeps up like usual. Everything is becoming harder the longer I stay awake. It’s been so long since I slept, yet I have no chance to. Constantly changing focus is making me so, so tired. But I have to or else the pain in my temples will spike and the laughter will grow closer.
When I make it to the top of this island, I take a short rest, just looking at the swirling, twisting, and winding letters that are written into the stone. It’s beautiful in an odd way. Just the same way that someone with nice handwriting can be appreciated, these words are eloquently made in the same way.
This distraction catches my attention for just long enough for Blake to walk up behind me, but when she gets really close, I turn around uncomfortable.
“What are you doing?”
She just laughs it off and taps me on my shoulder.
“Nothing. Why are you so paranoid?
My eyes squint as I look closer at her. She’s… more confident than usual. That’s a bit odd, but it’s probably because it’s just the two of us. Maybe she loses confidence in groups and one-on-one she’s normal.
I just shrug my shoulders and lay down on the stone for a few minutes to let my legs and feet rest. Wading through such high water is exhausting. At least nothing has jumped out from the depths to attack us, though.
I then look up at the mist above as the sun seems to be setting. The colors start to dim above me and hint at the darkness of night approaching. That, and it seems like it’s been long enough for the night to arrive at this point. We’ve been traveling for quite a while through Sinscreak.
Blake also takes a few steps away from me before sitting on the rock. I know that I should just break these inscriptions with my shotgun, but I am low on ammo. Only around twenty or so shells left, and Otto, who carries extra ammo all the time is nowhere near. I know Blake doesn’t have any shells because all she has is a small pistol.
So, instead of wasting bullets, I roll over onto my stomach and start scraping away at the inscriptions with my dagger. I use Physical Strengthening on my arm to help break off chunks of stone faster, and it helps quite a bit. It only takes me around twenty minutes to destroy whatever is going on here with these swirling words that I can’t read.
Once I finish that, we start our journey to the next one. Hopefully, we will find what we’re looking for soon. Or we’ll find Otto and Johnny. I mean how far could they have gone? Otto is quite fast, but he was wounded and weighed down by Johnny. Surely he has to be on one of these islands resting, right?
Or maybe the mist got to him too bad and he’s running around like a madman.
I hope it’s the former.
As we walk deeper into the mist, it grows thicker and thicker, seemingly more potent as well, as everything reaches the point where I no longer can evade the laughter by constantly changing my focus. The giggles of children, the laughter of adolescents, and the chuckles of adults constantly eat away at my sanity non-stop. Blake doesn’t seem too bothered by it, though. Abbot must be really good at resisting external effects like these as even Dakota is seemingly more aggressive and odd.
At this point, I almost permanently have my hand up to my temple massaging my head as these noises continue to pierce into my brain, making pain blossom every time a high-pitched giggle or low laugh comes from nowhere.
Frustration grows as well as tiredness as I can’t find what I’m looking for. Not Otto or Johnny. Not the cause of this damned mist, and not even the actual Crossroads.
I simply shake my head and continue to walk in determination. Blake and Dakota follow behind me, the latter paddling through the high water.
After several hours of wandering, however, we find another one of these islands and I repeat the same process. I grind away at the stone while the laughter grinds away at me. Whenever I break the inscriptions, the noises fade for a short moment before reemerging with slightly less strength. That alone gives me enough motivation to continue. What I’m doing is working.
But something else repeats once more. Blake gets incredibly close while I’m distracted. Close enough that it makes me severely uncomfortable with her breath falling onto me. And something in the back of my mind tingles as I turn to her. She just raises an eyebrow at me when I twist away after finishing destroying the inscriptions.
“What are you doing? Why do you keep getting so close?”
She just shakes her head.
“I don’t know what you're talking about.”
I squint once more at her in focus. She’s been acting really odd. Completely unlike usual. Normally, I’d attribute that to stress, but something just keeps me on edge about her.
But I still don’t know what is wrong, so I just laugh it off and turn around. I start to walk to the edge of the island to make my way down.
“Haha, okay. Very funny. Just please, don’t get that close.”
She laughs back at me as well. But her giggle hits me just as my foot hits the edge of the island and it sounds exactly the same as the ones that keep piercing into my mind. The high-pitched disembodied sound.
Her laugh did not come from her. It came from above.
********************
Blake Nightingale
My eyes open and all that greets me is silence. I can tell it’s night even through the mist as I sit up and look around. My whole body is still suffused with exhaustion from healing Wyatt, and as I turn to look at him, I realize he is gone.
Fear, panic, and confusion all explode as I frantically search for the young man, but the only thing I find is his fox, whimpering beside where he used to be sitting. Where the hell is he?!
I go to call out to see if maybe he’s nearby and has to do something, but just as noise begins to leave my throat, a chilling laugh comes from within the mist. One that sends a chill down my spine and immediately invokes my flight or fight response, specifically flight. The laugh grows in volume and seems as though it is getting closer as it is joined by a chorus of creepy giggles.
Taking a glance at Dakota, and knowing that Wyatt would never want the fox to be left behind, I pick up the fox and pull it with me. Dakota resists for a moment, but I whisper-yell to it as it growls at me.
“We need to go find Wyatt, okay!? Your master!?”
He stops growling and lets me pick him up as I slide down the wood, using my Vigor and Ether-infused bandages to protect me on the way down. Just as we splash into the water, I hear pounding footsteps whose sound outweighs the splash it creates.
My heart skips a beat as I immediately plunge beneath the stomach-high water, hiding beneath. Dakota resists for only a short moment as I put my hand over his mouth to calm him down. I flow Ether around my heart with the twinge of my Sigil, using Hibernation to slow down my heartbeat and respiration. This is what I normally do whenever I meet a threat that I am uncomfortable with fighting in Sinscreak. You hide and wait for a later opportunity.
Then, I just wait under the surface of the murky water as the footsteps grow in volume and force, almost as if they are angry. After almost a full minute of stressful and fear-induced waiting, I see the creature that is making these noises.
For a while, I thought it might have been a Letiche or a Rougarou, but my guess was completely off. What emerges is a massive humanoid, almost nine feet or so tall, that is carrying a cleaver on its back. Or on her, as I can see feminine features on the creature.
Just looking at it sends chills down my spine and makes me go stock still, almost as if I’m seeing a natural predator. Dakota does the same as I feel him go completely limp in my arms beneath the water.
I try to sense its Ether just using my own mind by closing my eyes, but the density coming from it is beyond anything I’ve ever seen before, instantly burning my mind. I rip away my senses and hope that it doesn’t notice as I too go limp. It stops for a brief moment at my investigation and looks around at the deadwood fingers.
Thankfully, the creature doesn’t seem to notice us as it walks deeper into the mist, past the constructions of dead wood that look like fingers grasping at the air. I wait to emerge until the thing is fully gone beyond the mist, and when I do, both Dakota and I take a huge gasp of air.
What the fuck is happening?!
Was that a demon? An Ogre? Or what? I’ve never heard of anything within Sinscreak with a clever and that kind of height or stature. The Rougarou is the closest, but it is covered in damp hair, not open skin and clothes. Not to even mention how ugly it was. The damned thing looked disgusting, and the only way I could recognize that it was female was because of its chest.
Not just that, but where the hell did Wyatt go? This mist is so hard to see through and he just up and left? How long ago? He even left Dakota? No… something isn’t right. I can’t imagine him leaving the fox behind.
Something must have made him leave… Was it those laughs I heard? They disappeared the second the footsteps emerged… Maybe. The Laughing Reeds… Johnny told me who was told by Alonzo that they cause hallucinations and eat away at the mind over time. That few have ever walked out of alive, and those that do are often aged, mentally scarred, or not the same person.
But this is the closest Crossroads or the only known place with a chance of having one that’s accessible. The only other one I can think of would be at the bottom of Lawless Lake. And no one can make it that deep, it’s just known to be down there.
Maybe something from beyond lured him away. That must be it! What I just saw must be from beyond one of these realms, and something must have lured Wyatt away without giving him the chance to wake me up!
With renewed Vigor, I speak to Dakota and start walking deeper into the mist to look for Wyatt, Otto, and Johnny… They’re all gone… aren’t they?
“At least you’re still here with me, Dakota. I–I… I don’t like being alone. Please don’t leave me either, okay?”
The fox just tilts its head at me. Of course, it wouldn’t understand loneliness. It’s just a fox. It might be a bit smart, but it’s not sentient. Don't be stupid. You need to focus. It is just like it used to be. Alone in the swamps. You need nothing else but yourself here, no matter would you might think. Twenty years in this place without dying, you can do a bit more, right, Blake? With a sigh and a quick look at the shrouded moon, I wade through the high water. I hope I can.
So many people have left me… And while few do on purpose, it hurts all the same. This is why I joined up with Johnny. The Dragoon died, and I was left without purpose or companionship. Loneliness eats away at you faster than anything else.
I’ve gone several minutes without air, hours on the verge of death, days without water, and weeks without food, but the months alone are what stick with me. Sitting in a corner of an alley or inside a hole of a tree with no one to speak to except for the fear that those around you will take advantage or simply kill you for your meager belongings.
That’s not even what hurts the most, though. It’s when you finally make friends just for them to betray or leave you. It’s hard to decide which hurts more though, a betrayal of a friend, or the death of one. That’s why I just couldn’t leave Wyatt behind even if it might have gotten me killed. It’s why I’ll look for him until I’m given a reason he wouldn’t do the same for me.
As my thoughts spiral in this depressive episode that I’m so familiar with, I hear laughs in my peripheral, but I ignore them. Delusions are nothing new to me. I was born here. Hallucinations from venom, poison, or spores are common. Over time, you gain a fairly good sense of what is real and what isn’t.
For me, the way I figure it out isn’t some gut feeling like others do. It’s the emotional response I have. Most laughter would simply make me feel lonelier because I’m left out, but this laughter? It only makes me feel uncomfortable.
So, I’m able to easily ignore it as I search for my friends who left me, hoping that none of them did so out of betrayal or that they are already dead. I am, however, careful not to follow in the footsteps of that Ogre that passed me by. Under no circumstances do I want to be found by that thing.
After several hours of this stressful and careful travel with the laughter occasionally in the back of my mind, I find an island of dark stone in this water. It’s a small one, only about the size of a small house, but Dakota and I climb to the top of it after a few minutes of searching for a way up. And when we do, I look down at it to see if there is anything left behind by Wyatt. A message, a waypoint, anything.
And while I do find something, it’s not what I was hoping for. There seem to be small inscriptions that were destroyed by lead and fire, a sign of Wyatt’s Intervention, but above that, are long winding words written with what seems to be the nails of a giant. The text is rough, swirling, and hard to read, and it’s not even in Chero, the human language. It’s in another language, the demonic tongue of Enochian. there are many demonic languages, though, just as there are many different kinds of demons, but Enochian is the most common.
I know a bit of the twisting letters from the many books I’ve read over my life, one of which was a short book of words and letters of Enochian written by a Hunter. Because of this, I can decipher the twelve words written roughly into the stone.
You are unwelcome here, young graves. Turn back or meet your maker.
I’m not certain that is the correct translation. “Graves” could have been tombs, and “maker” could have been death or fate, but I’m not sure. Regardless of the differing translation, though, it makes almost zero sense. Whoever wrote this, probably that Ogre, left a warning for someone. But who? How could it even of known anyone was here? The mist is everywhere and stops all sight past thirty feet or so.
Is it me? Can’t be. It didn’t even see me nor does any of this fit me.
I stand up from my investigation into the stone with more questions than answers, but at least I got one answer. Wyatt was here. I don’t know why he shot at the stone, breaking it, but I can see his spent shells on the rock. I’m sure he had a reason.
Sighing, I climb down from the rock with Dakota as I head deeper into the mist, in search of the Crossroads, my friends, and whatever the hell is going on. All the while, laughter touches my mind and stabs into my temples with an eerie pain. The way through the Laughing Reeds is difficult, especially with this piercing laughter, but I grew up in Sinscreak. No amount of water, danger, or creepiness will keep me away. This place is my home and its waters are my birthright.
I have no issue swimming or wading through this as long as I have to. Sleeping on top of the murky water is not an issue either. Although, I would rather have a safe place to rest, and I’m sure Dakota would too.
The mist only continues to grow harder and harder to see through, and the laughter starts to pierce through my mental defenses as I go deeper. Pain erupts in my temples as I try to focus and defend myself while I wade through the water.
It is difficult, though, and I worry about how Otto, Johnny, and Wyatt are doing without the boons of my Sigil.
****************
Wyatt Graves
As I climb onto the third island, my feet grow increasingly exhausted. This one is even deeper into the mist before, even bigger, and creates way more of the Ether from the inscriptions written.
Blake follows behind me as Dakota keeps up like usual. Everything is becoming harder the longer I stay awake. It’s been so long since I slept, yet I have no chance to. Constantly changing focus is making me so, so tired. But I have to or else the pain in my temples will spike and the laughter will grow closer.
When I make it to the top of this island, I take a short rest, just looking at the swirling, twisting, and winding letters that are written into the stone. It’s beautiful in an odd way. Just the same way that someone with nice handwriting can be appreciated, these words are eloquently made in the same way.
This distraction catches my attention for just long enough for Blake to walk up behind me, but when she gets really close, I turn around uncomfortable.
“What are you doing?”
She just laughs it off and taps me on my shoulder.
“Nothing. Why are you so paranoid?
My eyes squint as I look closer at her. She’s… more confident than usual. That’s a bit odd, but it’s probably because it’s just the two of us. Maybe she loses confidence in groups and one-on-one she’s normal.
I just shrug my shoulders and lay down on the stone for a few minutes to let my legs and feet rest. Wading through such high water is exhausting. At least nothing has jumped out from the depths to attack us, though.
I then look up at the mist above as the sun seems to be setting. The colors start to dim above me and hint at the darkness of night approaching. That, and it seems like it’s been long enough for the night to arrive at this point. We’ve been traveling for quite a while through Sinscreak.
Blake also takes a few steps away from me before sitting on the rock. I know that I should just break these inscriptions with my shotgun, but I am low on ammo. Only around twenty or so shells left, and Otto, who carries extra ammo all the time is nowhere near. I know Blake doesn’t have any shells because all she has is a small pistol.
So, instead of wasting bullets, I roll over onto my stomach and start scraping away at the inscriptions with my dagger. I use Physical Strengthening on my arm to help break off chunks of stone faster, and it helps quite a bit. It only takes me around twenty minutes to destroy whatever is going on here with these swirling words that I can’t read.
Once I finish that, we start our journey to the next one. Hopefully, we will find what we’re looking for soon. Or we’ll find Otto and Johnny. I mean how far could they have gone? Otto is quite fast, but he was wounded and weighed down by Johnny. Surely he has to be on one of these islands resting, right?
Or maybe the mist got to him too bad and he’s running around like a madman.
I hope it’s the former.
As we walk deeper into the mist, it grows thicker and thicker, seemingly more potent as well, as everything reaches the point where I no longer can evade the laughter by constantly changing my focus. The giggles of children, the laughter of adolescents, and the chuckles of adults constantly eat away at my sanity non-stop. Blake doesn’t seem too bothered by it, though. Abbot must be really good at resisting external effects like these as even Dakota is seemingly more aggressive and odd.
At this point, I almost permanently have my hand up to my temple massaging my head as these noises continue to pierce into my brain, making pain blossom every time a high-pitched giggle or low laugh comes from nowhere.
Frustration grows as well as tiredness as I can’t find what I’m looking for. Not Otto or Johnny. Not the cause of this damned mist, and not even the actual Crossroads.
I simply shake my head and continue to walk in determination. Blake and Dakota follow behind me, the latter paddling through the high water.
After several hours of wandering, however, we find another one of these islands and I repeat the same process. I grind away at the stone while the laughter grinds away at me. Whenever I break the inscriptions, the noises fade for a short moment before reemerging with slightly less strength. That alone gives me enough motivation to continue. What I’m doing is working.
But something else repeats once more. Blake gets incredibly close while I’m distracted. Close enough that it makes me severely uncomfortable with her breath falling onto me. And something in the back of my mind tingles as I turn to her. She just raises an eyebrow at me when I twist away after finishing destroying the inscriptions.
“What are you doing? Why do you keep getting so close?”
She just shakes her head.
“I don’t know what you're talking about.”
I squint once more at her in focus. She’s been acting really odd. Completely unlike usual. Normally, I’d attribute that to stress, but something just keeps me on edge about her.
But I still don’t know what is wrong, so I just laugh it off and turn around. I start to walk to the edge of the island to make my way down.
“Haha, okay. Very funny. Just please, don’t get that close.”
She laughs back at me as well. But her giggle hits me just as my foot hits the edge of the island and it sounds exactly the same as the ones that keep piercing into my mind. The high-pitched disembodied sound.
Her laugh did not come from her. It came from above.
